Category Archives: Play

Staff Meal

A staff meal at a typical restaurant is an opportunity for the entire crew to be treated as equal members of a “family.”  However, in Abe Koogler’s Staff Meal currently being served up at Playwrights Horizons, there is something odd transpiring around the table.  While the enthralled servers moan in delight, what we see is unremarkable.   The true source of their reaction is imperceivable to outsiders.

At this same unnamed venue, Ben (Greg Keller) and Mina (Susannah Flood) are out on a what would strike most of us as a dreadful first date, though they seem quite comfortable with each other’s horror-tinged stories.  Their waiter (Hampton Fluker) is on a mesmerizing walk through the dark, deep, and disorganized wine cellar.  And the Servers (Jess Barbagallo and Carmen M. Herlihy) are just giddy to be employed by the elusive Gary Robinson (Erin Markey who is also — somehow — the chef and a vagrant) a man of wealth whose philosophy is what keeps them full.  Along the way, these characters don’t just break the fourth wall, they bulldoze it, build a fresh one, and then smash that one with a mallet as exemplified by Audience Member (Stephanie Berry).

Vagrant (Erin Markey) goes job hunting in Staff Meal; photo by Chelcie Parry

Similar to many artistic endeavors that were completed during the pandemic, Koogler’s piece is much more intent on capturing an unfamiliar mood than it is on telling a story.  The restaurant at its center is a unique universe with a distinct environment and even — it would seem — its own gravitation pull.  Individual scenes are like a Matryoshka Doll in reverse, with each character revealing a bigger, more colorful veneer without changing much of the plot’s shape.  Koogler imbues them all with astoundingly vivid and detailed memories and imaginations.  Poetic meditations on food, love, the past, and being of service are passionately delivered.  But while the people on stage search for common ground, you too might be casting about in hopes of feeling a connection. 

Under the hand of director Morgan Green, the artistic team functions in concert to support the absurdist tenor of the work.  Comparable to quarantine at COVID’s height, time spirals and sense of place becomes illusive.  Jian Jung’s papered walls are both elegant and nondescript.   The costumes by Kaye Voyce start off as commonplace and morph into outright bizarre.  As the players grow increasingly wary, Masha Tsimring’s lighting follows that tone.  Tei Bow’s sounds and music complete the vague and uneasy landscape.

Not unlike the restaurant that is Staff Meal’s home base, this play serves up some novel flavors. If you are willing to hover somewhere between drama and performance art, you might savor the experience without the need to define each morsel.  But also akin to dining in that central establishment, the undertaking might leave you feeling hungry for something more solid.

Staff Meal continues through May 19 at the Peter Jay Sharp Theater on the 4th floor of Playwrights Horizons at 416 West 42nd Street.  Running time is one hour and 35 minutes with no intermission.  Tickets are $51 – $91 and can be purchased at https://my.playwrightshorizons.org/events/staffmeal.

Agreement

The younger generations in America may not remember “The Troubles,” a violent nationalist, religious and political conflict in Northern Ireland that lasted over 30 years and reverberated through England and mainland Europe. It was declared at an end on Good Friday of 1998 after a long and difficult negotiation led to an agreement between factions.  The brave and complex process that led to the signing of this historical document is dramatized in Agreement, currently running at the JL Green Theatre in New York.

Senator George Mitchell (Richard Croxford) had been sent by then-President Bill Clinton to facilitate the proceedings.  He described it as simultaneously juggling knives and balloons.  For those unfamiliar with this historic event, the other participants in the room were:

Gerry Adams (Chris Corrigan): president of Sinn Féin, which was associated with the new Irish Republican Army

Bertie Ahern (Ronan Leahy): a Christian Conservative who served as the equivalent of Prime Minister of Ireland

Tony Blair (Martin Hutson): the newly elected and immensely popular British Prime Minister

John Hume (Dan Gordon): founder of the Social Democrats and Labour Party who won the Nobel Peace Prize

Mo Mowlam (Andrea Irvine): Secretary of State for Northern Ireland in Blair’s cabinet

David Trimble (Ruairi Conaghan): the leader of the Ulster Unionist Party who became the first leader of Northern Ireland

These introductions are covered in the first minutes of the play and characters frequently break the fourth wall to update the audience on their thinking and motivations.  Most of the cast members don’t look much like their real-life counterparts nor do they attempt imitation.  Rather they capture the essence of each person as seen through smiling Irish eyes.  With the gruff plain spoken delivery of his first line, Chris Corrigan’s Adams gets a knowing chuckle from the audience.  Dan Gordon’s John Hume, the realist of the group, delivers the clearest insider view. Martin Hutson plays Blair as a puffed up buffoon, high on his “mandate” stardom.  As Ahern, Ronan Leahy wonderfully performs the highest wire act both emotionally and politically.  The lone woman, Andrea Irvine has some of the same struggles as her opposite number, not given enough to do to fully define herself.  

The cast of Agreement at the Irish Arts Center

Director Charlotte Westenra could have done more to vary her actors’ approach to the text, but her straight-line approach does help audience members remember who stands where on the thorny issues.  With the focus on playwright Owen McCafferty’s fiery exchanges of dialogue, the artistic craftwork is also kept to a minimum.  The set by Conor Murphy centers on an overhead projection screen of a slowly shifting cloudy night sky.  It also serves as a television monitor and timekeeper with videos designed by Eoin Robinson.  Desks and chairs are continually rearranged by the players, more to provide variety than to establish any particular sense of place.  May Tumelty turns up the heat and the lights at key moments, which are punctuated by the contributions of composer Kate Marlais.

It is significant that the work is simply called Agreement and not “The Good Friday Agreement” or even “*The* Agreement.”  At a time when civil discourse and true negotiation seem impossible, the happenings portrayed are a refreshing reminder that informed and motivated people can find their way to a middle ground if they stay true to the greater good.  Despite passionate disputes over critical areas, democratic principles held. Ah!

Agreement continues through May 12 at the newly christened JL Greene Theatre in the Irish Arts Center, 726 11th Avenue.  The venue opened at the end of 2021 and boasts comfortable seats, a welcoming café, and a conversational staircase.  The production comes to us from the Lyric Theatre of Belfast.  Running time is 1 hour and 48 minutes with no intermission. Tickets are $25-$90 and can be purchased at https://irishartscenter.org/event/lyric-theatre-agreement.  

Fish

We’ve heard the old proverb, “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day; Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime.”  But what are you supposed to do if you don’t have the money for a rod, line, or bait?  That is the provocative question behind Fish, a world premiere play by Kia Corthron currently running at Theatre Row on 42nd Street in New York.

The story revolves primarily around Latricia, known as Tree, a sharp 18 year old senior attending a typical urban high school that is short on funds and long on drop outs.  The teen has much more on her plate than 100 word essays.  With her mother incarcerated for a minor drug violation, she is responsible for running the household and overseeing her high-energy asthmatic 11 year old brother, Zay.  To add to her burden, her best friend LaRonda has won a spot in the Peak and Pinnacle Academy Charter School.  While only on the 6th floor of the same building as the rundown public school, with its gleaming computer lab and health center it might as well be on Mars.  English teacher, Jasmine Harris, can see Tree’s intellectual curiosity and capability below the layers of tough talk and anger.  But she’s so overburdened by the “teach to the test” requirements of Common Core she doesn’t have the time or tools to draw them out.  

Director Adrienne D. Williams does a brilliant job of incorporating the posture and movement of today’s cellphone obsessed youth.  Scenic designer Jason Simms has divided the small stage into three sections with smudged walls, mismatched chairs, and familiar posters, so that the action can move seamlessly from classroom, to project, to the streets.  The sound design by Michael Keck incorporates the thumping beats that greet us at the theater door.  Nic Vincent’s lighting design includes flickering fluorescents, an illuminated metaphor for the overall decline.  Scenes are cleverly titled overhead with the names of typical high school classes, for example “Speech and Debate” for a heated argument between teacher and student.   

Torée Alexandre makes a very believable Tree.  Even though she captures the cadence of a typical teen, with the guidance of dialogue coach Xavier Clark she takes the speed of delivery down just enough to make every impassioned word come across to the oldest of ears.  Equally good is Mikayla LaShae Bartholomew as best friend LaRonda, especially with dialogue that emphasizes the girls’ genuine caring for each other.  Acting as a worthy foil in her exchanges with Tree is Rachel Leslie as Jasmine Harris.  The cast also includes Josiah Gaffney as a sweet and playful Zay and Morgan Siobhan Green, Margaret Odette, and Christopher B. Portley playing multiple classmates and teachers.

Josiah Gaffney and Torée Alexandre in Fish at Theatre Row

This scathing portrait of a failing system and the magic of having a teacher see the value within a student would have been enough to satisfyingly sustain the 105 minute runtime.  Instead, the storytelling becomes defused in the last 20 minutes, with several tangential issues introduced.  It’s unfortunate that after all the times she is let down, Latricia doesn’t get the full attention that she deserves from the audience either.

Fish — a co-production of Keen Company and Working Theater — is playing in Theatre 4 at Theatre Row through April 20.  The script contains mature language and tough themes and is most suited to those over 10.  Running time is 105 minutes with no intermission.  Tickets are being sold on a sliding scale starting at $0 and can be purchased online (https://bfany.org/theatre-row/shows/fish/), by phone (212-714-2442 ext. 45,) or in-person (410 W 42nd Street).  You can learn about how to pick the price point that suits your budget by visiting www.keencompany.org/tickets.

Cambodian Rock Band

The actions perpetrated by the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia were so extreme they are quite literally incomprehensible to many Americans.  The brutal regime very nearly decimated the cultural heritage of the Southeast Asian nation.  Nearly a quarter of the population was wiped out including the majority of doctors, teachers and artisans.  To this day, it is considered one of the world’s least developed countries by the United Nations.

Lauren Yee’s play with music, Cambodian Rock Band, takes us through the Cambodian Civil War and genocide through the eyes of one family and a prison commander who has finally been brought to trial on charges of Crimes Against Humanity.  It’s 2008 and Chum has arrived in Phenom Penh for a surprise visit with his American-born daughter, Neary.  She has been investigating Duch, who oversaw the murder of so many prisoners that only seven were found alive at the time of liberation.  For reasons that become obvious, Chum has conflicted feelings about his “lost” homeland and would love nothing more than for his child to give up her fact-finding mission, return to the USA and attend law school.  Flashbacks to 1975 complete the picture.  A time when music thrived in the country, these scenes include the amateur recording of the titular rock band with songs by Dengue Fever under the musical direction of Jason Liebson.  (Whether they have you dancing at your seat or tapping your foot with impatience to get on with the story depends very much on your love of tunes from that period.)

The work warmly humanizes the examination of the different ways in which people respond to danger and the instinct to survive. Using Duch as a narrator, Yee never lets us forget that we are watching a play orchestrated by a storyteller who can manipulate the plot.  Along the way, she weaves enough fact into the dialogue to carry everyone along without feeling lectured to.  Director Nelson T. Eusebio III skillfully handles the transitions between history, thriller, and dark comedy.  The ensemble — Eileen Doan, Jojo Gonzalez, Alex Lydon, Shawn Mouacheupao, K Chinthana Sotakoun, and Greg Watanabe — radiate emotional energy.  Many cast members perform dual roles, enhanced by the costume designs of Yoon Bae. The stark set by Riw Rakkulchon keeps our attention on the powerful language with the concert elements, including colorful projections by Caite Hevner, allowing us to breathe or maybe even scream. 

K Chinthana Sotakoun as Neary/Sothea; Photo Credit Wesley Hitt

In light of our own current struggles with authoritarianism and the reevaluation of America’s role on the international stage, the themes explored in Cambodian Rock Band ring even louder than in 2019 when it premiered.  While Yee softens the blows of the story with song, she never blunts the message.  Running time is 2 ½ hours including a 15 minute intermission.  Theatre Squared provides a lounge with a live stream at their venue in Fayetteville, Arkansas for those who need to take a mid-performance break.  There is also the option to stream the production from home, which is how I was able to see it in New York.  Performances continue through March 24.  Visit https://tix.theatre2.org/overview/25509/ for ticket prices and further information.

John Proctor is the Villain

Writers are often told to write what they know.  Playwright Kimberly Belflower has gone several steps further.  In John Proctor is the Villain she has boldly written from her very marrow, jangling the skeletons in our collective social-values closet.  Raised in Appalachian Georgia, Belflower sets her piece in a one stoplight town in her home state, using the locally accepted ways and belief systems to draw parallels between a circle of high school sophomore girlfriends and the characters in Arthur Miller’s The Crucible.  The year is 2018 and there is much in these young women’s lives that was not solved by Harvey Weinstein’s arrest.

Victoria Omoregie, Jules Talbot, Haley Wong in John Proctor is the Villain; directed by Margot Bordelon; photo by T Charles Erickson

The dialogue is wicked-smart, filled with references from classic literature to song lyrics.  Though all are understandable because of clever context, only one is fully explained.  Belflower begins Act 1 in a classroom where sex education has been buried inside English-Lit, all the better to rush through the uneasy curriculum.  Along with getting a quick hit of each of “Villain’s” characters, this opening enables teacher Carter Smith (a  charmingly approachable Japhet Balaban) to also introduce any audience members not already familiar with Miller’s work to the major themes of The Crucible and the historical background of Witch Hunts.  It also becomes clear very quickly how much the study of the arts is giving meaning and purpose to the lives of these students

While serious issues of feminism, sexuality, body positivity and all varieties of belief run under the surface, front and center is a story of the power of female friendship.  The young ladies are created with some stereotypical DNA, but every one is layered with unique and endearing details.  Caught in a very personal #MeToo scandal through the actions of her father is Ivy Watkins (a warm Brianna Martinez).  Her former best friend Shelby Holcomb (a thorny Isabel Van Natta) has just returned to school after an unexplained “sabbatical” which might be connected.  Often speaking truth to power is Nell Shaw (a high-octane Victoria Omoregie) bringing “worldly wisdom” to the conversation from her upbringing in Atlanta.  At the other end of the confidence spectrum is Raelynn Nix (a fabulously wriggly Haley Wong) the local preacher’s daughter. The ultra serious Beth Powell (a ready-to-spring Jules Talbot) launches a feminist club in part to boost her college application but also to give them a container for discussing their feelings. They have a developing ally in Mason Adams (a sweetly awkward Maanav Aryan Goyal ) who experiences a particularly lovely character arc.   Filling out the attendance sheet is Raelynn’s ex-boyfriend Lee (Benjamin Izaak) and the class guidance councilor Bailey (Olivia Hebert) who are essential to the plot.

Seasoned director Margot Bordelon, who has a history of amplifying new voices, seems to have deep love for these characters, bringing out every delicate moment of discomfort and rage with authenticity.  The school room’s simple set by Kristen Robinson changes temperament with the help of Aja M. Jackson’s lighting.  Sound designer Sinan Refik mixes snippets of pop tunes with school bells and eery noises to further shift the tone of the room.  The girls also make themselves heard in their choice of wardrobe (Zoë Sundra) and in Raelynn’s case evolving eye make-up.

Whether it is exploring weighty matters (like why is “too much” simply parental shorthand for “a girl)” or making us laugh in solidarity, John Proctor is the Villain always keeps us entertained.  True enjoyment requires the ability to think big and a tolerance of of other points of view.  It is available as an On Demand stream from The Huntington Theatre in Boston through March 24.  Running time is about 100 minutes with no intermission. Digital tickets are available at four price points starting at $30 and can be purchased at https://bostontheatrescene.huntingtontheatre.org/28317/28319.  

Dragon Lady

Sara Porkalob had received praise for playing a white Founding Father, Edward Rutledge, in the Broadway revival of 1776.  But she had never had the opportunity to represent someone with her Filipino background until she wrote a role for herself.  Her solo performance — Dragon Lady — tells the colorful story of Porkalob’s grandmother, Maria Porkalob Sr.  A karaoke-loving daughter of a gangster, Maria I moved from the Philippines to the Pacific Northwest as a pregnant newly wed wife of an American soldier.  (Senior made a cameo in the show until her death in 2022 and now appears in projection.)  The show premiered in 2017 and has been touring the country, now joined by Dragon Mama, another Porkalob creation told from Sara’s mother’s perspective.

The Pittsburg Public Theater recently shared Dragon Lady with a broader audience through the League of Live Stream Theater, a non-profit that works primarily with regional theaters to broadcast their productions in real time.  Built tenderly from a 9 minute senior year workshop assignment, the production runs 2:15 and spans over 40 years.  Designed in a framework of a cabaret act with a three piece band, Hot Damn Scandal (Pete Irving, Jimmy Austin, and Mickey Stylin), the performance is engaging and freeing.  On the night before her 60th birthday, Maria Sr. pulls her granddaughter aside in order to share some family secrets.  Sara’s mother, Maria Jr., is obviously not the matriarch’s biggest fan.  By revealing some less-than-flattering elements of her history, the elder Porkalob hopes to at least elicit understanding of if not forgiveness for her past actions from the newest generation.

Sasha Jin Schwartz’s set, bathed in blue with its raised rounded platforms and crisscross patterns, conveys the essence of a casino or nightclub.  Under the guiding hand of director Andrew Russell and leveraging the intimacy of this ¾ round space, Porkalob changes skins in a flash, portraying those closest to Maria Sr. including her father, lovers, and five children. Each relationship shines a little more light into the painful darker corners (physical lighting by Spense Matubang).  There is a particularly lovely and insightful exchange between Maria Sr’s two sons, Ron and Charlie, when they were younger.  Sara’s singing voice is remarkably strong and soaring as she delivers a range of musical numbers from torchlight to jukebox.  Mixed with atmospheric sound by Erin Bednarz, the selections help shift the mood and lighten the load.  

Sara Porkalob backed by the Hot Damn Scandal in Dragon Lady at Pittsburg Public Theater

Having broken away from the comfort of scene partners and backdrops, Porkalob has had to tap deeply into her own power as an artist.  By appreciating the value of a personal story and sharing a genuine human experience, Porkalob has given us a work that resonates far beyond her own family.  The language and themes are decidedly R-rated and intended for audiences over 18.  A third play, Dragon Baby, told from Sara’s vantage point, as well as a TV adaptation of the entire cycle are currently in development. 

For more information about Sara Porkalob and The Dragon Cycle, visit http://www.saraporkalob.com/.  To explore the rest of the Pittsburg Public Theater Season, visit https://ppt.org/.  To learn more about upcoming real-time simulcasts by the League of Live Stream, visit https://www.lolst.org/.  

Sunset Baby

My first experience with Sunset Baby – Dominique Morisseau’s 2012 drama being revived at New York’s Signature Theatre – was a series of tweets from colleagues grumbling about the treatment of the playwright’s program insert. Indeed the tiny handout is a puzzling choice of physical manifestation for her enticing invitation to the audience to fully participate even vocally in her tale of a recently released social revolutionary, his traumatized daughter, and her loving thug of a boyfriend.  But it wasn’t so much that the “Permissions of Engagement” were on a 4×6 piece of paper in nine point font. The more disappointing aspect was that the production did not elicit so much as a peep from Sunday’s audience.

Russell Hornsby and Moses Ingram in Sunset Baby; Photo Credit, Marc J Franklin

The ability to fulfill Sunset Baby’s promise is boldly displayed in the concise history of the show’s world displayed on the wall outside the theater door. It is visible in Wilson Chin’s economical yet thoughtful scenic design with its peeling paint, well-used furniture, and intriguing choice of artwork.  The decision to move the proscenium forward and raise the rake between the rows increases the accessibility and brings the audience further into this room.  Small touches from a shower caddy (props by M. Picciuto) to the nearby train (sound by Curtis Craig & Jimmy Keys) bring the setting into clearer focus. The promise is most palpable in the emotive performance of Russell Hornsby as Kenyatta, who in warm and slightly trembling tones opens the show by vividly describing not only the struggles of his role in the Black liberation movement and resulting incarceration, but of the bigger challenge of trying to be a loving father. And it occasionally pokes its head out in Morisseau’s careful plotting such as the discovery that Kenyatta’s daughter Nina expands her world beyond her rundown room in East New York by watching the Travel Channel.  Indeed, Morisseau’s knowing and complex feelings about parenthood are strongly woven throughout the dialogue. But none of these sparks ever becomes flame in the frustratingly inert 90 minute runtime.

What seems to have put a dulled layer between the work and the experience of it are artistic choices by director Steven H. Broadnax III.   The pacing is slow and there are false notes along the way.  Nina comes home from her “job” as a fake hooker who helps her boyfriend, Damon, lure black men into dark alleys to rob them.  She slips off her shiny royal blue thigh-high boots — among the apt selections by costume designer Emilio Sosa — only to wrap her cozy pink bathrobe around her skin-tight leather mini. Is this a symbol for her constant discomfort or an inability to smoothly incorporate a wardrobe change?  The actress embodying Nina, Moses Ingram, has proven herself capable of deep emotional range.  But here she is stuck at the pitch of a petulant teen. Nina’s lack of full development is most notable in a pivotal scene between her and Kenyatta. It should play like a musical movement that shifts from minor to major.  Instead this sly turning point is tonally more like a repeated refrain.  As her literal partner in crime, J. Alphonse Nicholson is also wedged into a single groove when the character could be providing meaningful counterpoint. 

I deeply admire Signature Theatre as a surviving safe harbor of affordable, expansive community theater. The commitment to reexamine an older work by Dominique Morisseau that focuses on the personal impact of the socioeconomic divide is a timely one. But Sunset Baby 2024 misses an opportunity to more engagingly enlighten a new audience about the fallout from another period during which the Black community’s efforts to serve their own were villainized and politicized.  

The first of three offerings this season, Sunset Baby runs through March 10 in the Romulus Linney Courtyard Theatre at the Pershing Square Signature Center (480 W. 42nd Street).  Tickets are available at https://order.signaturetheatre.org/events and are $59/$79/$99/$119.

Australian Theatre Live – Emerald City

In 2014, when the artistic director of the Griffin Theatre Company,  Lee Lewis, had the opportunity to direct any play she wished, she reached back nearly 30 years to David Williamson’s comedic drama Emerald City.  The work continues to travel maddeningly well through time.  Using his own experience as a springboard, the Australian playwright examines the struggle between artistic passion and the desire for money and power.  Available to stream on the relatively-new-to-the US Australian Theatre Live, it is a treat for those who missed it during an early run produced by New York Theater Workshop.

The city in question is not the one Dorothy visited, but rather the glittery harbor-famed Sydney where in-demand screenwriter Colin (Mitchell Butel) has recently relocated his family from the more staid and traditional Melbourne.  He hopes the colorful energy of his new surroundings will be creatively renewing after his latest film disappointed at the box office.  But a new partnership with the well-connected vulgarian Mike (Ben Winspear) plays havoc with Colin’s priorities and reputation.  A secondary plot involving Colin’s wife of 18 years, Kate, (Lucy Bell) centers on book publishing and the question of who can tell a story, once-again relevant in the season of The Killers of the Flower Moon.  Colin’s agent, Elaine, (Jennifer Hagan), his bank manager, Malcolm, (Gareth Yuen) and Mike’s live-in girlfriend, Helen, (Kelly Paterniti) play pivotal roles in the unfolding of events.

Kelly Paterniti as Helen and Ben Winspear as Mike in Emerald City;
photo by Brett Boardman

There are two main reasons why the play still resonates.  While there has been an increase in the appetite for quality on screens big and small, there is still little profit to be made in arthouse projects: a dilemma for talent.  But there is also a timelessness to Williamson’s satiric conversation and smartly drawn characters.  His observational ability is on full display, especially when actors break the fourth wall and make us coconspirators.  Focus whips between them connecting with their audience and being in the moment, providing side-by-side viewpoints.  Butel is particularly skilled at humorously parroting the others.  Though it is the men who take up most of the 125 minute runtime with their posturing and machismo, the women with their deeper combination of beauty and brains are the ones behind the more surprising and memorable moments.  The piece begins to drag a bit towards the end, though that may be my post-pandemic attention span unaccustomed to two full acts.

Designer Ken Done supports the central conflict with his backdrop for Act I playfully drawn and the one for Act II dressed for business, shrouded in beige fabric.  A single couch and coffee table serve as all living rooms and a sole desk and sectional Everyman’s office.  This allows director Lewis to squeeze every millimeter from the tiny stage, including the area between staircases, and facilitates seamless handoffs between characters at a brisk pace.  Lighting designer Luiz Pampolha provides emphasis as does costumer designer Sophie Fletcher’s pops of color.

The Griffin was launched by actors and remains artisan-focused.  In his introduction to the digital version of Emerald City, Williamson makes clear that this is not a film but rather a first rate production viewed from the best seat in the house.  Indeed the camerawork is smooth and obviously well rehearsed, the sound is pristine, and the acting style genuinely theatrical.  Closed captioning is available as is a 10 second back button.  The stream costs $7.99 at https://stream.australiantheatre.live/ and is just one entry in a growing library developed with the intention of expanding access to Australian performing arts.

Merry Me

The new comedy Merry Me has plenty going for it.  The layered writing by Hanson Jung is packed with witty spins on pop culture and references to classicists from Euripides to Shakespeare all built around a structure most similar to a Restoration Comedy.  The cast — everyone making a New York Theatre Workshop debut — is masterful.  It would be easy to play up every clever note, which would also be exhausting.  Instead the punches are delivered in slowly rising waves under the direction of the always excellent Leigh Silverman.  It’s all quite attention getting and yet somehow lacks stickiness, which is not meant to be a sexy pun despite the prominence of bawdy humor in the dialogue.

Marinda Anderson, Esco Jouley, Shaunette Renee Wilson and Nicole Villamil in Merry Me; photo by Joan Marcus

The plot unfolds on the front lines of a war that has been paused by a well-known Angel (sassy  Shaunette Renée Wilson).  She introduces us to the interdependent characters as she and her cohorts manipulate their lives.  There is Lieutenant Shane Horne (magnetic Esco Jouléy) who having seduced the General’s Wife (pixieish Cindy Cheung) is on a quest for her next “Merry.”  Shane enlists the help of therapist Dr. Jess O’Nope (exuberant Marinda Anderson) to convince the rather dim General Memnon (David Ryan Smith with just the right amount of dopiness) that they are now heterosexual.  Meanwhile the General’s equally dim son Private Willy (Ryan Spahn taking the hit for cis white men everywhere) has smuggled his beautiful new wife Sapph (Nicole Villamil managing an incredible balancing act between allure and innocence) onto the base.  Bored out of her mind and her body, she dresses in “boy drag” in order to explore her surroundings and seek out Shane. 

Playwright Jung pulls in references from Illyria to Wakanda with a hefty serving of Kushner and a soupçon of E.L. James.  All of her characters are self aware and often speak in stage directions and subtext. The energy is that of an old-fashioned farce but the would-be cliches are almost literally turned on their heads.  Having directed many productions in the NYTW space, Leigh takes actions that would typical be horizontal and stages them vertically with wonderful results.  There is one tiny portable foley door that gets run in and out of, but for the most part that classic farcical piece is “performed” by a remarkable back wall designed by Rachel Hauck.  The effects are fully achieved with the help of Barbara Samuels lighting and Caroline Eng and Kate Marvin’s sound design.  

A combination of intellectual exercise and frank sexuality, unsurprisingly Merry Me is attracting an unusual blend of followers.  The age range of the audience was fresh out of college to well into AARP membership.  Faces represented the colors of the rainbow.  And reactions spanned from gently bobbing heads to energetic fist pumping.  Performances continue through November 19 at New York Theatre Workshop, 79 East 4th Street.  Runtime is 90 minutes with no intermission.  Full priced tickets are $65.  For more information visit https://www.nytw.org/show/merry-me/.    There is room in this world for something different even if it isn’t enduring.

The Half-God of Rainfall

At a time when the performing arts are struggling, it is fitting that the wonderful New York Theatre Workshop is hosting a theatrical event that takes much of its inspiration from the early Greeks.  Similar to the dramas of that time, The Half-God of Rainfall combines elements of religious mythology, social commentary, and contemporary politics.

The piece opens with a nod to the ancient tradition of oral storytelling as the players introduce themselves with their real names along with their god-selves.  Working together, the performers weave a tapestry of poetry and dance as they tell the tale of Demi, the product of a particularly violent rape by Zeus: one of many abuses perpetrated by the King of the Gods against human women.  Having won a wager with Sàngó, a fellow god of Thunder, Zeus took as his prize Modúpé, who almost instantly gives birth to a half-god child, Demi.  His despair can make rivers rise and his rage can make it rain.  But his real power manifests on the modern basketball court where every shot is a winner. Despite his many victories, his smoldering rage against his father always burns.

In this realm, the gods of all traditions know one another and many are no better than the mortals over whom they have dominion.  Encompassing so many deeply felt themes occasionally bends the narration out of shape, but the dazzling visuals and all encompassing soundscape keep you enraptured. The audience was invested enough that towards the end they elicited a loud gasp at a critical moment.  While some familiarity with the various pantheons would be helpful, playwright Inua Ellams includes enough background information that the plot can be followed without it.  Even the basketball reference are based on pop culture and never “inside baseball” as it were.

Taibi Magar’s direction is masterful, filling the scene with otherworldly energy enhanced by movement director Orlando Patoboy.  She also incorporates Orisha movement choreographed by Beatrice Capote.  The set by Riccardo Hernández with projections designed by Tal Yarden is in constant motion with swirling images of clouds, water, and the cosmos itself.  The stage continues the natural theme, covered in black sand that moves and lets out a soft crunch beneath the actors’ feet.  The physical experience is expanded with the sound design of Mikaal Sulaiman and lighting designed by Stacey Derosier.  Costume designer Linda Cho builds on basic black towards the shimmering waters of a fertility goddess.

The ensemble moves with fluidity throughout the work, their disparate voices adding variation to the verse.  Mister Fitzgerald gives Demi a radiant joy.  Jennifer Mogbock brings both strength and warmth to Modúpé, her body moving with the combined powers of grace and strength.  Jason Bowen as Sàngó and Patrice Johnson Chevannes as Osún make a fittingly splendid couple under whose protection Modúpé lives.  Kelley Curran’s Hera and Michael Laurence’s Zeus employ unnecessary Greek accents, but the two shine in their other supporting roles.  Only Lizan Mitchell over-modulates, consequently distorting her lines as the trickster Elegba and several other deities. 

Mister Fitzgerald as Demi, The Half-God of Rainfall; photo by Joan Marcus

As many Greek heroes learned, a great adventure often begins by being blown off course.  This production was disrupted by COVID only to wind up in just the right hands.  The result is an ambitious epic that draws a diverse audience much needed by today’s theater world.  Despite its themes, The Half-God of Rainfall is a human-level spectacle born of collaboration and heart.  (There is a trigger warning for a depictions of sexual violence and a use of flashing lights and haze for dramatic effect.)  Performances continue at the New York Theatre Workshop (79 East 4th Street) through August 20 and $65 tickets are available at https://www.nytw.org/show/the-half-god-of-rainfall/.  Runtime is about 90 minutes and mask-only performances are available.  A co-production of NYTW and Harvard’s American Repertory Theater, the show will be moving next to Cambridge, MA in September.